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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275821">Comets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardog_teeth/pseuds/stardog_teeth'>stardog_teeth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cigarettes, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Gen, I wrote this while dissociating, Mrs. Hudson plays the piano, Post-Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:01:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardog_teeth/pseuds/stardog_teeth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding was hard on Sherlock.  Sometimes you just can't cope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Comets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock Holmes stumbled out of the cab and up the street.  His vision blurred in front of him, but he kept moving.  Up the steps, one, two, the doorknocker slightly askew.  He rifled through his coat pockets for a key. </p><p>‘Keys... should be in the right pocket, where are you?’  Ah, they were underneath a crumpled wad of paper that might once have been notecards for a speech.  ‘When did I give a sp… Oh!  Oh.”  The day’s adventures seemed far behind him now, and farther by the second. </p><p>He tried to be gentle with the door, but it slammed behind him anyways.  He found he didn’t care as he tugged, pulled, ripped his coat, and aimed for one of the coathooks.  He was up the narrow stairs before his long coat had settled on the floor.  Past the sitting room, almost to the bathroom, he was so close.  Just a few more steps until he would reach his room.  He stopped.  A faint piano melody could be heard drifting down from upstairs.  He knew Mrs. Hudson hadn’t heard come in, or she would have come down and asked him to play his violin with her. </p><p>‘Good, she doesn’t know I’m here… now where is my bloody stash?’  Holmes dropped to the floor of his bedroom, rooting around under the bed for his small, black box.  It was missing. ‘John…’  But before he could finish that thought, he spied it out of the corner of his eye.  He had moved it to his nightstand just that morning.  Sherlock stood back up and shuddered with relief. </p><p>Soon this would all be a memory.  Soon he would forget what he was leaving behind.  Soon he would not be thinking about how empty his life had become, and how empty it would remain without the one man who kept him sane.  The needle sunk in.  He heard John’s disapproving voice in his head and paused for a moment before driving the plunger home.  While he was still conscious enough to do so, he pulled a cigarette from its carton in the black box- just one.  He lit it and sucked it down as if it were the holy grail and he a damned sinner. </p><p>Stars crossed the man’s vision as he fell back onto his bed in a thick cloud of cigarette smoke.  The ceiling began to swim as he lost track of time and space.  He was no longer hurting.  No longer slowly being crushed by the absence of the man he had shared his many adventures with. </p><p>The last thing Sherlock saw before he closed his eyes was the starry sky outside the small, dirty window.  Holmes had never been one for poetry, but as he drifted off, he thought: ‘We were never meant to be stars, just comets burning up on entry. A beautiful sight, but gone before you know it.  </p>
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